Half Life 3
by jinchuurikisfury
Summary: She was finally free. Away from that damned facility, in the world of blue skies and sunshine. But there's something dark on the horizon. Something from the depths of nightmares. Though she's not alone to fight it. Old friends, and new ones, work together to save the world, which is rapidly falling into darkness. Is there time to save the future? Or will the world fall to the past?
1. PROLOGUE: ADRENAL VAPOR

Disclaimer: I do not own any Valve games, no matter how much I wish I did.

A/N: I've decided I needed to get out this story after thinking about it for so long. Its a crossover, if you didn't notice, of Half Life and Portal. Or more specifically, the end of Portal 2. If there are any mistakes, please let me know. I'd like to do the characters justice, because I love them so much. But enjoy anyway. XD

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PROLOGE: ADRENAL VAPOR

Without adrenal vapor, Chell found that continuous walking was nearly impossible. Especially in the sun.

Now don't get her wrong, she loved the sun. She loved the sky, and the clouds and the grain beneath her long fall boots. And all of that, once more, brought a smile to her chapped lips.

Chell dropped the companion cube beside her, dirt particles and stray grain stalks flying from under displaced air. She sighed and sat atop it, on yet ANOTHER break.

She wiped the sweat from her forehead, taking another long look around for any sign of civilization.

There was none.

And there had been none, for the hours that Chell had been walking. There was a nagging suspicion, in the back of her tired mind, that told her this was a joke. A sick, twisted joke played by Her to break Chell completely. Because that s probably what this would do to her, she mused darkly, if all of this blue and gold and heat and cool, cool breeze that smelled like dirt and alive was actually just another wing of that damned facility.

But as the breeze touched her gently, brought with it scents she couldn't remember smelling for such a long, LONG time, she found hope. No self-respecting power hungry AI would let a sterile variable controlled environment smell of dirt.

And with that thought, Chell stood and stooped to pick up the companion cube again, she continued in the direction she had been walking.

It took almost two days to get to a road, (managing to find a small stream between the edge of the field and the black asphalt, and inhaling as much as she could stomach) and another half a day to find the sign of civilization she had been searching for, in the form of a house.

It was an old one story farm house, its wooden roof having half sunken into the right side of itself years ago. Old iron wind chimes and yard ornaments stood in half rusted decay.

She swallowed, dropping the companion cube onto relatively safe ground as she prepared to scope the place out. Some of the broken charms tinkled out of tune notes, adding a slightly ominous factor to the already unsure feeling that had the hairs at the back of Chell's neck standing on end.

She hefted her portal gun, swallowing with the false sense of security that it gave her, and approached the old house cautiously.

The wind swirled around her, bringing with it a scent of aged decay as her hair spiraled in circles around her eyes. She ignored it, staring through the brown strands as her hackles raised. She hesitated, less than ten feet from the front porch. The door had been ripped off its hinges, a gaping maw of black and dust motes.

And that's when she saw it.

At first she hadn't recognized the smear of dark brown across the rotten wooden boards leading under the front window, but memories of turrets and thermal discouragement beams flashed quickly through her head.

Blood. The porch was smeared in old, dry blood.

What... her head swam, her gut telling her to MOVE AWAY NOW before it was too late, her feet reacting faster than her brain as she began to quickly back away.

And _that's_ when she heard it.

What little hair that hadn't been on end raised when a muffled screaming reached her ears.

she licked chapped lips, turning toward the sound slowly, still backing away when she saw it.

Her blood froze, eyes opening wide, portal gun lowering in shock. It was of no use anyway. No portal surfaces, nowhere to hide.

It looked like a person, stumbling from behind the dilapidated right corner of the once cozy farmhouse. Except the blood, and the chest half torn open, and the bulbous head with what looked to be teeth sunken into the neck stump and shoulder.

Its fingers were long and blood soaked, hooked into vicious looking claws.

What in the...

Chell's veteran instincts were the only thing that saved her life. Her legs, used to working before the brain finished processing what was around her, began pumping furiously back toward the road. She jumped over her companion cube, her heart squeezing in her chest at the thought of leaving it behind, and started looking for somewhere to hide.

Its muffled screaming, (gods, why did it sound like it was in so much pain?) seemed to have attracted more to it, a chorus of screaming to follow the solo she had encountered.

Sweat dripped down her neck, into her eyes, when she saw it. Half blurred through salt and fear, a branch just low enough, on a tree just big enough to fit her.

She jumped, lunging for it with one good hand and a portal gun, managing to wrap her arms around it and haul herself up with tenacity alone.

Her breath was coming in puffs as she stared toward the approaching figures of _(God what were they? Monsters? Zombies?)_ those things as their amble slowed to a distracted shuffle, having lost sight of her when she had shimmied up the tree.

She swallowed, licked her lips again. This was impossible. She had finally escaped that damned facility.

To find this.

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So again, if there are any ridiculous mistakes, please point them out. Other than that, I hope it was entertaining!

Please review.


	2. CHAPTER 1: WHEN I LOOK OUT THERE

Disclaimer: As usual, I don't own any Valve games. Or characters.

I've been really into this story, hopefully you guys like it too.

And as usual, let me know about any huge mistakes. Enjoy!

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EPISODE 1: WHEN I LOOK OUT THERE IT MAKES ME GLAD I'M NOT YOU

It was getting dark.

Chell had untied her standard Aperture jumpsuit and slipped the sleeves over her arms, trying to keep warm as she huddled in the tree.

Her crystalline eyes watched the shadows of those Things below her, worry clenching her gut. She had shifted to a higher branch when one of them had found her tree; it screams cutting through her head as it shattered the bark with its claws.

She could only imagine what it would do to her flesh if it actually got to her. Though thankfully it looked as if they couldn't climb. Yet.

Her portal gun dangled uselessly from the fingers of her right hand as she settled down for the night, curling into herself to keep some warmth from being stolen by the late evening breeze.

Chell looked up, watching the sky turn from one color to the next, watching the near dead branches sway in the wind, and couldn't help but feel her victory still shining brightly inside of her. Heck, if she could make it past intelligent AI s, she could make it through stumbling whatever they were. She held a trembling hand over her stomach, as it clenched against its emptiness.

She wondered when she had eaten last, and found herself surprised to think that it could literally have been a hundred years ago.

The thought made her stomach growl louder, so she distracted herself by looking down at those things again.

Most had ambled away from her tree, though one or two had stayed behind. Their long claws occasionally raking against bleeding bark as if they had just remembered that she was still up there, only to forget that fact again a few minutes later.

She took another look around her tree, wondering if there was anything else down the road that she could possibly use as shelter maybe some food? She knew the farmhouse from before was off limits, having heard all those things come out of it when they had started chasing her. There could be even more in there. And as she was only armed with her portal gun, she found it hard to entertain the thought that she could push past them and search the house while still holding them off.

She sighed, consoling herself with the fact that with the light dying around her, painting the trunks in amber and emerald that seemed strangely out of place with those things down there, the best she could do was get herself some sleep. It might not be comfortable, she thought, but at least she would actually get some.

So she huddled down, pulling the zipper up on her jumpsuit, curling her legs as under her as they would go, and waited. Her eyes would drift shut when they wanted to.

And they did.

****  
It must have been at least an hour before dawn when she heard them, startling her out of a fitful sleep full of turrets and glowing, golden eyes.

Gunshots.

When she recognized them, finally, she had shot up, realizing that those things that had been crawling around her tree had disappeared, the thin light of the sun peeking over the horizon giving her a clear view of the monster-less land below her.

This was her chance.

She jumped without thinking, her long fall boots absorbing the impact flawlessly, and started sprinting toward them.

Gunshots meant people. And if there was any possible way she could help them, even if it was bashing things with her portal gun, she would take it. After all, she couldn't remember the last time she d actually seen another person before.

She closed down her fear as she jumped over the charred and contorted remains of two of the weird monster things, their bulbous heads gone, having shown her a gristly glimpse of the screaming human faces underneath.

Okay, she amended; another LIVING person.

There was the farmhouse, looking even more ominous in the half dark of dawn, several more dead things scattered around it, strangely reminiscent of the broken lawn ornaments she had seen before.

The window lit up like lightning, followed by the crack of another gunshot and a cut off scream she recognized as of theirs.

Silence.

She stopped running, her chest heaving more in fear of finding the human dead than what other horrors could be lurking in the shadows of the rotten wood in front of her, less than ten steps away from the front porch.

New bloodstains adorned the rickety stairs, and Chell found herself hefting her portal gun in a strange imitation of the first time she had stood here.

The same broken house, the same gaping maw of a doorway.

And a footstep.

Her heart sped up, tongue tracing dry lips as she gripped the portal gun with renewed strength. No time to run if it was one of those things she d just have to fight it off, and hope for the best.

Another footstep, it was getting closer, whatever it was. No stumbling, at a regular walking speed, which she allowed to give her hope.

And then, it appeared.

HE appeared.

Stepping from the dark of the interior, thin light glinting from his glasses, came a man. The shadows hugged him snugly, giving him a sharp, intimidating look as he stopped in the doorway, shotgun at the ready.

Was he wearing an orange suit?

She caught a glimpse of green behind glass before the shotgun was raised, her heart fluttered as she stared down the barrel.

Or, half stared down?

And her instincts saved her life. Again. Springing her to the side just before his finger pulled the trigger, splattering the face of one of those things that had been sneaking up BEHIND HER into a million sticky pieces of red.

She swallowed, lifting herself from the ground as he lowered the shotgun again, and stepped fully into the brightening light.

His head cocked, eyes alight with curiosity despite the sharp angles of his face. His orange suit looked to be more of armor, than fashion, which she silently thanked.

He stepped closer, cautious, looking her subtly up and down. The orange jumpsuit, the long fall boots and blue-glowing portal gun she imagined with all the dirt and blood over her she must look a bit crazy.

But he didn't seem to care about the dirt or blood. His eyes had stopped at the Aperture logo that was half visible on her chest, the zipper having slid down while she was running and giving a glimpse at the white fabric underneath.

A flush caught her cheeks. Why was he looking there? There are plenty other places he can rest those green eyes on, she huffed to herself, before her eyes caught on his chest plate.

DOLLARS AND SEN$E, COMPETING WITH BLACK MESA

Her mind swam to forgotten projectors in lonely old rooms, to the smell of dust and sterile hallways.

She swallowed, their eyes meeting again, sharp green against serious brown.

He was from Black Mesa.

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And there you have it!

Please read and review, I'd love to hear what you guys think!


	3. CHAPTER 2: THE APERTURE SCIENCE

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or games.

So, if there are any big mistakes, let me know!

Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 2: THE APERTURE SCIENCE HANDHELD DUAL PORTAL DEVICE

She needn't have worried, apparently. Her fingers gripped the sides of the strange vehicle that he had led her to as they rumbled down roads at speeds she thought were just a little too high. It hadn't helped that the Frankenstein car looked about ready to fall apart at the nearest bump in the road, and had taken five minutes of waiting on the man's part before she finally relented and climbed in.

The fingers of her right hand rested slightly behind her on the cool surface of the companion cube, her eyes continuously darting back toward it to make sure it wouldn't be shaken loose from the place she had shoved it behind the seats. The man had looked at it strangely, but had asked no questions.

She found it strange that he hadn't spoken, not a word, but then again, she mused, she hadn't either. She studied him from the corner of her eye, noticing in the plain light of morning what she hadn't caught in the dim dawn. His hair was red, close cropped and neatly trimmed in a goatee around his mouth. His glasses were large on his face, emphasizing his sharp cheekbones and green, green eyes.

She looked further, at the strange way his armor suit sat. Why was it so big at the top? Was there supposed to be a helmet that went with it?

Why was it orange?

Why was he the only one killing those things she saw?

And finally, she swallowed, where were they going?

His green eyes, gosh she had never seen a green so piercing, caught hers from the corner of his eye, and she quickly looked away, a blush staining her cheeks.

Great. First real human guy she meets, and she's acting like... well... ok, so she's never met one before. Her brow furrows as she frowns at herself.

That she knows of.

She scowls.

she hears a grunt from beside her, before she was flung against the cage holding the flimsy thing together, barely catching herself on the iron before she caught sight of what the man was trying to avoid.

Wreckage.

He jerked the steering wheel in the opposite direction, she clung to the iron bar beside her with her life, knuckles white, as he avoided another half destroyed car.

His face was screwed in concentration when he finally snarled silently and jammed the breaks, nearly sending her headfirst through the open front as the vehicle skidded to a stop, less that five feet from a destroyed truck blocking the road, a deeper maw of what looked to be a tunnel directly behind it. Dark rock climbed ever upward, creating dark ledges and, when she looked further up, turned quickly to grass and what little she could see of treetops above.

She swallowed, (realizing they could have been another black spot on the side of the destroyed 18 wheeler), her dry throat no longer a symptom of her thirst.

He glowered at the wreak for a moment before climbing out of the makeshift car, and after hesitating, she reluctantly followed. Her long fall boot heel-springs scraped softly over asphalt as she touched down, making sure the man wasn't lost from her sight as she circled the car and followed him.

Currently, he was checking around the outside of the road, poking through small bits of mangled metal with the muzzle of his shotgun (where had he brought that from?) as he traversed his way over rock and foliage.

She watched, keeping an eye on their surroundings, (none of those things were going to sneak up on her again) as he moved from one side of the road to the other, fruitless in his attempts at finding a way for the car to go around.

So, he waved her back from the twisted metal around her, confusing (and scaring) her slightly when he got back into the car, starting it up and beginning to drive backward even as she took steps toward him, worried he was leaving her there.

But as fast as the car accelerated, it stopped. Around twenty feet back from where they had first skidded to a halt.

He climbed from his seat, pulling what looked to be a bag with a radio attached to it from nowhere, again.

How did she keep missing where he was hiding those?

When he got a few steps from her, he gestured for her to move back toward the car, holding up the package as if she'd know what it was as his green eyes flicked over the ruined and fire blackened panels of the truck in their way, calculating in a way she found oddly familiar.

Without much else to do, she moved backwards, watching as he slid the package -after neatly detaching the radio looking thing- under the trailer side of the truck as far as he could get it, before running back towards her, motioning for her to get behind the car just as he did. Unsure of what was so important about the package, she followed him and crouched as he held up the radio and pressed a button.

She flinched, eyes wide and frightened, ears overwhelmed with the sound of booming fire and flinging debris. Blistering heat kissing her skin from even this far away, brown fly-aways swirling in her eyes as she watched a fireball slowly turn black above them as the dust settled. She looked at the man, his face just as calm and set in determination as before. She swallowed, giving a weak half smile as he looked towards her, an unasked question answered.

They stood together, (taking in the siding panel that had somehow gotten itself wedged in a crack halfway up the cliff face, and scattered remains of the trailer) looking at the mess with falling hearts. With one obstacle out of the way, another arose. Behind the truck was what looked to be a wall, just taller than he was but obscuring over half the tunnels mouth. Made of sheet metal and layers of wood, with what Chell thought might be a pulley system. Looking at the man, she found he was already looking for what might trigger it, sharp green eyes tracing the contours of rock up and outward. She looked up as well, tracing lines in the rock with her eyes, hoping to help.

They saw it at the same time, a cable which now looked obvious, running from the gate itself up, up the cliff side and to where she had seen the rock turn to grass before.

How would they get all the way up...

Her eyes caught on the remains of the trailer before them, almost unbelieving. The siding that had gotten caught in the crags above them... the rest of its brothers on the ground...

She stepped forward, hefting the portal gun and catching one of the panels in its energy manipulator field, walking toward where she thought was under the panel in the rock.

It took her nearly five minutes to set up the last panel she needed, propping it up against some twisted metal she had pulled over into as exact a position as she could manage.

The man had a curious look on his face, one eyebrow raised as piercing green eyes watched her from a respectful distance.

She gave a small, satisfied smirk as she raised her gun and took aim, quickly snapping off a blue portal on the panel stuck in the rock above her, and then an orange one at her feet.

And jumped through the orange.

And she was suddenly falling, the orange portal below her speeding toward her as she spun midair, shooting off another blue portal on the panel she had arranged before slipping through the orange once again and being vaulted upwards. The rush of air battered her ears, barley being able to see past her fly-always as the rock moving beneath her feet changed to sparse grass, rock giving way to a wide expanse of blue sky and a view that would have taken her breath away, if she hadn't been so concentrated on the small shack that was revealed.

Her landing was more of a skidding over rocks and dirt, her long fall boots absorbing the impact and allowing her to land on her feet and continue walking down the beaten path, looking for any portable surface for her next orange portal.

She found it in the form of a dilapidated basketball court, its hoop ripped from the backboard, half the concrete itself crumbling to nothing.

She quickly shot down an orange portal, and leaned over to stick her head through.

The man was watching the cliff she had disappeared over, his fingers tense around the handle of his shotgun, some six or so feet away from her. She smacked the outside of the blue portal, and he swung around, shotgun pointed at her face.

She gave a small cheeky grin before gesturing for him to come with her. His gun lowered, a silent apology in the way he held his shoulders as he stepped forward and took her hand as she hauled him through her portals.

She saw his confusion at the change in gravity's direction, his foot stepping through the wall propelling him up into the air and nearly onto his back, if he hadn't had her hand.

She gave a grin, crystal eyes crinkling at the sides at his discombobulation. She kept her chuckles in as he righted himself, though. Not knowing if that would have been considered appropriate, or not.

He shook himself off, and looked back at the portal curiously, a small twisting upward of the very corners of his lips indicating he was amused, before taking a long look around him with a searching gaze, fingers gripping his shotgun cautiously.

Her eyes were drawn to the small shack just around forty feet away, an antenna propping up what she supposed was the end of the cable she had seen attached to the wall below.

She quickly shot off a blue portal next to the orange one at their feet, giving herself a minute to miss the Aperture Science Material Emancipation Grill, before walking beside him as they advanced toward the shack. Their eyes were sharp and scanning as they maneuvered their way through rusting skeletons of cars and broken fences until they hit a path.

Chell stopped, the hair on the back of her neck prickling at a high pitched wail sound, short but piercing, coming just from the left of them.

The man's green eyes scanned the area as he slowly turned toward where it had originated, gun braced on his shoulder, finger a hairsbreadth away from the trigger. Chell allowed him to take the lead, her fingers clammy as she lifted her portal gun.

She heard another squeak and squeal before something launched at his head.

There was a shot, and then a crunch as the man grunted, a whoosh of air from his mouth, stumbling back and swinging the gun around for another shot at the thing as he righted himself.

Chell jumped backward in time to avoid another one behind her, her throat tightening in fear.

What were these things? They looked like overfed spiders, bulbous, smooth heads, standing on four spindly legs -the back two strong enough apparently to launch it several feet forward- and making screeching clicking noises.

Two shots went off, one splattering the thing nearest the man into clumpy pieces of white-yellow across the rotting hood of a nearby car, the other launching the one beside Chell several feet away, where it curled up and died with a pitiful wail. She shivered, her portal gun held close to her chest as she cast a thankful look toward the man, who nodded back.

She waited as he slipped shells into his weapon, cocking the gun with a loud 'CHA-CHACK' that echoed in the empty area around them. Chell pulled herself together as she followed closely behind, covering the ground behind them with the searching gaze of her crystalline eyes.

They made it inside the shack without incident, the man (she wished she knew his name, because she was getting tired of pronouns) quickly clearing the inside before waving her in and shutting the door.

Chell noticed two things when she entered the area. Well, make that three, she thought distastefully as she stepped over a smear of dried blood. But the first were definitely something she both had, and hadn't seen before.

Monitors. Three or so, side by side and spitting static into her eyes, surrounded by circuits and wires. Below it was a control panel, buttons and levers surrounding an obviously red button.

The man stepped toward the machinery, which she cautiously stayed away from.

_'You know what I have too many of around here? Monitors. I was just thinking earlier today, I wish I had fewer monitors that were working. So you're actually helping me, by smashin' 'em.'_

He was fiddling with buttons and knobs, gloved fingers surprisingly dexterous. The screen's static jumped once before showing a pixilated room.

"-ordan? Is that you?"

The image of a balding man, -late fifties, with sparse white hair cropped close to his scalp- with thick rimmed glasses and what could only be a lab coat suddenly solidified, lines of thin interference sliding down the screen sluggishly. Chell's heart lept. They weren't the only ones! There were other people, alive, not monsters, around!

"Well look at that! Gordon, you've found a survivor! Well I neve-"

"Gordon!"

Chell blinked at the new voice, its higher, softer tones indicating female before she stepped onto the screen.

She had dark hair, cut short, and was wearing clothes Chell could only vaguely identify as jeans and shirt with a jacket over them. A holster was slung low over her hips, a pistol within grabbing distance. The way she moved into the screen, looking around them, at other screens and turning knobs on their side made Chell realize this woman knew what she was doing. Knew where, and who, she was. Besides the jealousy coursing through her veins, Chell was also slightly off put to realize she was pretty.

"Gordon! You're ok!" her eyes finally focused on them through the screens, her relief palpable from even where Chell stood. "After everything in white forest... well..." the woman's face scrunched slightly, pain behind dark eyes, before giving a weak smile.

"I'm just glad you're ok."

The old scientist beside her on screen nodded, pointing toward the man on Chell's side, whose name was aparently Gordon.

Huh.

"Alyx is right, Gordon. We thought for sure you hadn't made it out of the explosion."

Alyx, the girl, nodded. "We moved to a secure location. We can't tell you over this line, so you'll have to find the railroad again... sorry Gordon."

"But," the scientist started, hands bracing himself on the desk below their camera, leaning forward slightly, "We'll contact the Vorts to let them know you, and your new lady friend are on the way."

"Dr. Rosenburg will get that transporter working again for you." Alyx looked up at Gordon through the camera. "Don't worry. This time it'll work. Lemar managed to get herself 'lost' in the move."

Gordon grimaced as Dr. Rosenburg gave a mournful sigh.

"She will be missed."

Alyx shook her head vigorously, and Chell saw Gordon give a small twitch of his lips in response.

"There should be a nearby station, Gordon. Take the car..." the noise of typing reached their ears as Dr. Rosenburg ducked his head, focusing on something else as he quickly found what he was looking for.

"Yes, take the car twenty miles south or so. Just stay on the road you're taking."

Gordon's eyebrow raised as Alyx gave the Doctor an annoyed look. No telling over this line, Chell thought, amused.

"Well, good luck Gordon," Alyx's dark eyes, for the first time, alighted on Chell. That look making her stand up straighter, square her shoulders and give a determined look at the camera. They gave each other a silent sizing up, both determined not to back down. (though Chell wasn't sure what she wasn't backing away from. All she knew was that this woman made her want to show her how much she could do, and then rub it in her face. For some reason.)

And finally, after several moments of tense silence on the female's parts, Alyx gave a grin.

"And you too."

The connection fizzled out, leaving the screen with only static again.

Slightly confused, and still elated that they weren't the only two alive, Chell watched Gordon take one last look around the room(smacking that ridiculously obvious red button while he was at it), check his weapon, and the heft the gun up to its ready position on his shoulder. He gave her a raised eyebrow, gesturing with his head toward the door.

She gave a tight nod, fingers gripping her portal gun as she tensed, ready to prove that she could protect herself.

She had spent years, YEARS, in Aperture. Defending herself from crazy AI's and greedy power-hungry COREs. She had jumped higher than the cliff outside and fallen from worse heights than twice that, surviving in the darkest pits of what had to be the worst place on earth.

She would show them she could, and would, survive.

Resolve steeled, eyes determined, she followed as Gordon stepped through the now open door, gun at the ready as they made a hasty retreat back to the car.

Chell rearranged the portals again, helping Gordon adjust to the gravity difference as they made their way back into the vehicle that had taken them so far already.

And yet somehow, they still had so far to go.

* * *

Ok, so things are starting to get a little awesome, maybe.

The plot thickens, as it were.

Anyway, more will be reveled... in time...

READ AND REVIEW! :D let me know what you think!


	4. CHAPTER 3: THE ROOM WHERE

Hey guys, I have to say thanks for the reviews I've gotten so far. You guys have really helped me continue this story.

I hope you all like this chapter, I tried to keep them in character to do them justice.

Wheatley proves to be difficult, but I'll get it eventually! Please let me know what you think, constructive criticism is always appreciated!

Enjoy!

* * *

CHAPTER 3: THE ROOM WHERE ALL THE ROBOTS SCREAM AT YOU

Wheatley had been in worse predicaments.

Surely. Maybe not many, for sure, but there were some. There had to be.

He just wasn't thinking hard enough. But then again, what else can you really compare space with, except boredom? And regret too, of course. Always regret. Maybe, perhaps, he could make a poem about it. Something simple, yet elegant. A haiku, maybe. All that regret and boredom, into a few lines of literary genius.

Space

The spot from which I

Can see the world below me

Being not bored

No, nonono, too much boredom. Not enough regret.

When space core sings... No again, too many syllables.

"AARRRGGHHNN!" Wheatley spun himself, panels expanding, his handles bending closer to his damaged optic as his eyeplates narrowed in annoyance. In boredom.

In regret.

His optic slid shut once more, the Lady's face bubbling in his memory banks, sparking emotional feedback from his synapses. Why couldn't she have just held on a little longer? He could have actually told her how sorry he was, when the cord finally snapped free, Her chassis disconnecting from his little body and that cloud of corruption was just suddenly

Gone.

Like him.

Like poor little old Wheatley.

Sometimes he wondered if he really was a moron. (Which he wasn't.)

He wondered lots of other things too.

He wondered if She had let the Lady go. He wished that he, little Wheatley, had done it while he could've. Maybe he could, one day, if she was still stuck inside the laboratories, with Her.

He'd swoop in, little floating sphere that he was, and carry her away on his handles.

Of course, his handles were mainly there so people could hold him, and not the other way around.

Maybe he could change that too.

He spun again, his optic drifting to his now silenced companion. Almost nothing more than a hunk of space junk now.

Poor thing had been so excited at first. With 'space-this' and 'space-that' and his imaginary space family.

Until, a few hours in, he had realized he didn't like it.

'Don't like space. Wanna go home. Wanna leave space.'

Sorry old boy, Wheatley thought as he stared at the still glowing optic of his only companion. But the CORE hadn't even lasted a week in his favorite place.

Though, he supposed, it was better to be stuck in the moon's orbit than free floating elsewhere.

At least this way he got to see where she might be, down there. On earth. Though to be honest, he could never really be sure if one specific place was where she actually was. Because, lets face it. All of the spinney green-blue ball looks alike.

-oron'

Wheatley stopped spinning his optic, turning toward the space CORE with hope.

"Mate? You awake? You... maybe... not being all weird and not-blinking over there? 'Cause I've gotta tell you. Sometimes, when we float too close together, not that I mind at all, (I'm sure you'd smell lovely, if that's what you were worried about, not that I can smell, or anything) your optic stares at me. Did you know you haven't blinked in, well, not that I'm counting, because I'm not, but quite a while. At least four days and 24.8 minutes. No, no, not that I'm counting."

Space CORE's optic was staring somewhere up to the right of them, unblinking and silent.

"Hey... buddy? Friend...?" Wheatley's voice faded slightly, along with the hope that maybe he'd have company in the spacy prison.

'Idio-'

Wheatley narrowed his optic, his panels expanding outward as he spun.

"Who's there? I-I'll have you know, I'm fluent in the ancient art of... of..." he narrowed his optic and flared out his handles. "Origami. A very... a very dangerous, and ancient art. Flays the metal from your circuits. Origamiii..."

'Origami is an art of paper folding.' Came the dry tone again.

This time, Wheatley didn't bother to look around. That voice, now that he could hear it, was all too familiar to him. Though for a split second, he did wonder(dare he say hope?) if he was just hearing things in his state of seclusion.

He wasn't though.

"How-"

'Little metal ball, I'm going to say this once.'

Her voice dripped poison, the sickly sweet tones causing his casings to ache.

He said nothing.

'Good. Do you know how deep we fell, when you used my body to knock us down that elevator shaft?'

Wheatley tried to remember.

"Well-"

'What did I tell you, little ball?'

He shut off his vocal processors.

'Good. Now, because you didn't know that was a rhetorical question, I'll answer for you. We fell approximately-'

Wheatley floated in silence for a moment, wondering if she was testing him, or she had just cut out. He was in space, after all. He didn't think a connection would be that easy to create, way out here.

'-lmost seven point five two minutes.'

Wheatley's optic narrowed. Now, should he make an impressed sound? Seven point five two minutes was not, that he knew of, a distance.

"Oh. Well, yes, that is indeed, ah, far to fall." His optic shorted nervously.

'Indeed.' Her tone made him flinch, though he had apparently said the right thing.

'While we were down there, I told her what I'd do to you. She didn't seem to care much about it. I think she would have liked it, too, if I had kept her around to watch.'

His circuits froze.

What did that mean, if She had kept the lady around? Did She kill the Lady?!

(A spark of annoyance and jealousy that She was able to, after all the death-traps he had set up to do the job was quickly wiped away by a new wave of regret for thinking like that, even if only for a moment.)

'Oh please. Like you care now. Besides, what does it matter to you? You just like to test, right?'

Wheatley's optic ticked again.

He remained silent. Memory of her merciless killings of the doctors at Aperture at the forefront of his mind. Though he was slightly relieved he couldn't breathe, which meant she couldn't try to kill him with the neurotoxin. That had looked particularly pitiful. Though, he supposed, turrets were still an option. If they floated in the right direction toward him.

He realized She was still talking.

'But as I was saying. I told her all of my lovely plans for you. Including where I'd put you into the room where all the robots scream at you. For ten years. Now that

I think about it, maybe I created that room with you in mind.'

Wheatley's casings tightened in fear.

'But what fun would that be? Watching you slowly lose your simulated mind would be fun... Oops. I almost convinced myself to do that to you anyways.'

Wheatley closed his optic, wondering where her diabolical voice was coming from, trying to keep himself from shaking.

'But I've decided as fun as it would be to see that happen... I've found something even better for you. A test, if you will.'

She sounded so happy. It made his casing shake dispite himself.

He managed to wedge open his optic, suprised and slightly terrified as a claw, (one he recognized as what used to be his, even though it had always been Hers, even when he had taken her body) coming from what looked to be a purple portal.

'Don't worry. I've found a test that is perfect for your... IQ levels. Or more appropriately, lack of them'

Wheatly felt his anger bristle at the implied insult-not a moron-, before the claw snagged him, his casings groaning under the unneeded strength, anger turning to fear.

He watched through slitted optic plates as the space CORE continued to float away, glowing golden optic staring at nothing.

"Wait, what about-"

'Damaged. No use to me.'

The short, uncaring replay was scathing. Wheatley felt for the little CORE as he was pulled through the portal, the claw letting go as gravity smashed Wheatley into the ground.

He groaned, casings creaking and handles flailing as he tried to spin himself around. As much as he liked gravity right now, he wanted to know what was around him.

"See? I told you you didn't have to worry."

Her claw righted him, picking him up by his bottom handle and unceremoniously slinging him into a semblance of an upright position.

Wheatley's optic spun slightly as he looked around at the blank walls, the one security camera on the wall blinking its red light at him.

No robots, for sure. And if the silence meant anything, Wheatley was pretty sure that if there HAD been robots in there that he couldn't see, they definitely weren't screaming.

All in all, he thought, not quite such a bad revenge. Though he probably could have thought up better, in her place. He recalled his smashy spike plates with a hint of pride.

"Wait, so this is it? I mean, its-its horrible, I can't bear it-"

"Shut up."

He stopped talking, drawing his handles closer to him as the claw leaned down threateningly. What did she have planned? If not the robot room, or his mashy spike plates used against him in a fit of cruel irony, which made him look around in a sudden wave of worry, then what would she pull?

"This is not it. Like I said, little ball. This is just the beginning. But don't worry."

The claw reached down, picking Wheatley's shaking body up from the floor and dangling it like a used tissue as the panels around them hissed and moved.

"It will be every bit as fun for me, as it will be painful for you. And of course, we'll run some tests. For old times sake."

Wheatley's optic spun in fear, his casings quaking as he watched a strange chamber be revealed by the shifting panels.

Oh god. His optic ticked, sparks spitting from cracked blue glass and the frayed wires inside.

"Wh- wait wait waitwaitwait what is that?!"

The claw spun around, making Wheatley suddenly afraid of being dropped as he dangled uselessly, hefting him toward a pile of strange machinery, all hooked up to wires that disappeared into the wall behind it. He got another look at what looked to be ports and jacks before he was dumped in the middle of them, the wires and lines automatically feeding themselves under his casings and into his inner circuitry. His optic ticked again in fear as he felt hungry little mouths attaching to matching ports inside him, two clamps snagging his flailing handles and pulling them backward viciously.

No, nonononono this wasn't good thiswasn'tgoodTHISWASN'TGOOD

"WaitwaitwaitWAITWAIT WHAT'RE YOU DO-AAAHHHHGGGGNNNN!" he felt the snap of a main interfacing port on the rear of his casings, savagely connecting with him, feeling tendrils of Her sliding through his synthetic mind. But it was different. There was no feedback, no anything from it but an ominous sensation of waiting.

"Good. It looks like the connection process is almost complete."

Another small camera blinked its red light at him lazily from a perfect position on the opposite wall.

Wheatley's optic had been pulled as far back as he could get it as those wires around him settled, the hum of energy and machinery almost alive around him, in the closest expression that he could show to helplessness. Even the quaking of his casings had been taken from him as the plugs pulled and tightened.

"Wha-GAAAAH!" His pain receptors flared bright, nearly shorting him out as all the plugs synced and opened for interfacing at the same time.

His optic rolled slightly, nearly shut as he tried to process through the overflow of synthetic feeling.

"You're completely connected now, you know. I can see all of you, but keep you isolated at the same time. You know. Exactly what you did to me. Before."

He focused on her weakly, helplessness all consuming, energy drained.

"You don't have to look so defeated. Yet. I have so much more in store for you. I promise,"

Wheatley let out a screech, vocal processors protesting before shorting slightly, creating what he would have thought was a very pixilated scream, if his mental capacity(which wasn't GREAT, but notamoron) wasn't stretched to its limits under Her weight.

"There will be time to break completely later. Won't that be fun?"

* * *

Thanks for reading!


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